


heaven consists entirely of me, you, and your sexy alien noises

by VirtuosicLucidity



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fade to Black, Fluff, M/M, Meteorstuck, dave is kinda into it, trolls make cool sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtuosicLucidity/pseuds/VirtuosicLucidity
Summary: In which Karkat reads his favourite romance novel to Dave, and Dave discovers he definitely has a thing for Karkat’s Troll Noises. As a result, Dave does not learn much about troll romance, but he does learn about troll sounds. Shenanigans ensue.





	heaven consists entirely of me, you, and your sexy alien noises

Cradling this tiny troll in the godawful pile of crap, you think, this is heaven. 

You’ll never understand why trolls find it so comfortable to lounge about in piles of random shit. At the moment there are two (2) DVD cases poking you uncomfortably in the ass, and at least four (4) horns have honked since he dragged you here, insisting that you “seem to lack the basic fucking anatomy to comprehend the complexities of trollian romance, and as such need to be schoolfed appropriately, *again*”. 

You’re pretty sure that was just another excuse for him to get to read his sappy romance to you, but you sure as hell weren’t about to complain. 

But sitting here in this admittedly uncomfortable pile, you find yourself falling further in love with the angry troll before you, uncharacteristically placid as he recites the opening chapter of what you’ve come to recognize as one of his favourite troll-romance novels. Its pages are love-worn, and you recognize the cover. You know he’s read it at least 7 times. You rest your chin between his horns as he begins. 

His voice, low and rough and beautiful, rumbles with the alien sounds of comfort and trust, vibrating into your body. You’ve always loved the sounds he made-- the purrs, the chirps, the trills; they were so alien, but so incredibly interesting. And at times, so incredibly attractive. 

You hum, trying your best to match the frequency of his rumble-whir. The contented, involuntary chirp he responds with warms your heart.

His hair, coarse and thick, glides smoothly between your fingertips where they dance circles along the seam where scalp becomes horn. It tickles your chin where you rest atop his head, and you peek over his bird’s nest at the Alternian characters written on the pages before him. You listen. 

“Xerryx, please tell me you’re not doing the thing I think you’re doing,’ his moiral laments. ‘Au contraire Torixi dear, I am doing something much worse!’ the rust-blood sits resolutely at his desk, opening trollian’s chat client with characteristic fervour--” 

You love the little voices he does when he reads, mimicking the personalities of each character. He’s not very good at it-- if anything it sounds more like he’s mocking them-- but that only makes it cuter.

“-- ‘I will get this blue blooded bastard to hate me if it’s the last thing I do!’ Torixi placed her head in her palms. He’s going to die, she thinks. He’s going to die, and he’s going to enjoy it. That damned blue-blooded knucklehead will be the death of him” 

You snort. 

“Dude, what the fuck? Why does this ‘Zerricks’ guy want the rich guy to hate him? That’s not romance. I thought you were school-feeding me romance. I’m hurt. Betrayed, even.”

You continue rubbing circles at the bases of his horns, but his whirring stutters as he processes what you’ve said. 

“Dave you complete taint-chafing fuck, how many times do I have to explain kismessitude to you? When is it going to get through your thick pan that there are four kinds of romance?” 

“Okay but like, you know that whole system doesn’t apply to either of us, right? I’m human and you told me, all the quadrats--” 

“Quadrants!” 

“--right, those. You told me you wanted me in all of them, because that’s what human love is like, right? So if anyone’s doing some taint-chafing I’m pretty sure it’s also you, my dude.” 

He growls, but the tips of his ears are reddening. You scratch at the base of his horn and the growl devolves into a sigh as the whirring putters back to life. Sweet. 

“That is beside the point. Even if my pan is fucked so far sideways that I actually prefer to human ‘love’ you--” 

Your heart flutters at the word, love. So uncool. 

“-- you still need to know about troll romance! If nothing else maybe you’ll comprehend what goes on between the vast majority of the other nook sniffing idiots on this godforsaken rock.” 

You suppose he has a point. 

“Alright. Read ahead, O Romantic One.” 

Mainly you just want to hear him talk with that amazing rumble whirr in his voice, but you leave this sentiment unvoiced. In fact, you lock that shit up with all the other “Sappy UnCool Things You Might Say to Karkat Maybe Possibly Only Post-Coitus/On Your Deathbed” in the corner of your mind, and continue not to drool slightly at how amazing he sounds. 

God, his voice is a masterpiece. This, you realize, would be an amazing thing to sample and mix into a slow jam-- something pulsing, but soothing. Something solid, but fluid. Something with just enough unst to balance out some gliding brass melodies and fuck you have no idea how to play a saxophone but it would sound so good over that rattling chirr he does when he’s annoyed. You are suddenly all kinds of inspired by the thought of creating a soundtrack heavily peppered with awesome troll noises, and store the idea away for later. Right now, you just want to fall in love with the alien sounds he’s making. 

When the moirail comforts the main character, the purr-whirr gets deeper, rumblier, vibrating right through you like a massage chair, or maybe a train. To be honest, you haven’t the faintest clue as to what either of those feel like; you imagine it feels something like this. However, it does dawn on you that the sound is having the intended effect-- it’s soothing, and you develop the irresistible urge to cuddle. Weird. 

When his mimicry of the characters gets a little heated in the hatemance way, sometimes there’s this little crackling that appears, somewhere between the rumbling and his actual voice and it kind of sends a shiver up your spine. And when the main troll finally gets around to talking to his hate-interest, something like a growl seeps into his voice, low and almost inaudible. That most definitely gives you a few tingly feelings, what the fuck? You decide that it must be intimidating, tapping into some part of your monkey brain that’s saying ‘low noise=big scary predator.’ You also speculate that there are probably other sounds happening below your hearing range, and the thought makes you a little sad that you’ll probably never get to hear all the sweet, sweet troll noises. 

You are so absorbed in trying to decipher and listen to all these beautiful sounds that you almost don’t even realize when they’ve stopped happening. 

“Dave are you even fucking listening to me?!” 

Oops. You glance at the page and notice he’s definitely read at least two entire chapters and you missed approximately all of them while definitely not drooling into his hair. You wipe the back of your hand across your chin and bottom lip just as he twists around to look at you, fiery and accusatory, but with a slight pout tugging at his lips. That should not be as cute as it is. You cup his face in your hands. He is only mildly surprised by this.

“What? No, dude, Karkat, babe, how could you accuse me of such a travesty-- of course I was listening.” You swipe a thumb across his cheekbone. He is unamused.

“Uh huh, sure. What just happened, then?”

Oh lawd he caught you. You drop your hands from his face, opting instead to fiddle with the hem of his sweater-sleeve. 

“The kissme-dude just got confronted by the main troll and uh, made some… threats.”  
You think that’s what happened, but truly all you remember was how sexy that growl had sounded as he was saying whatever the kissme-dude was saying and shit, maybe he’s better at voicing these characters than you thought, goddamn. 

Karkat remains unamused. 

“Listen I just was uh... not listening to the words coming out of your mouth per say-- I mean, I was listening but not listening-- you know, on account of all the cool rumbly noises you were also making and the fact that it’s literally impossible for me to also make them. They’re so… so--” 

“Alien?”  
“Nice.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“I mean, yeah they’re pretty alien too but like that’s what makes them so good you know like what the fuck how do you even make a noise like that, how does your body even know how to do that shit. Like, do trolls have some sort of extra voice box or something? Are you like a cat? I know fuck-all about cat anatomy but like, cats purr. But also when you do it it’s not like a purring it’s like a whirring? But it’s like if a cat and a cricket or a beetle or something had a baby and oh boy that’s, not even possib--” 

“Dave, shut the fuck up.” 

You shut the fuck up. Karkat is looking at you with what appears to be a mixture of confusion, irritation, and mild amusement. You like this expression. It’s better than him being upset with you for not listening intently to the troll-romantic (tromantic?) intricacies you were meant to be learning about. The tiny smile twitching at the corner of his lips is somehow incredibly endearing, if not a little disconcerting. 

He raises both hands to his temples, sighing deeply and generally making a big show of looking irritated, but the half smile is still there. 

“So what I’m hearing is, you’ve been getting off on my voice for the past 20 minutes, not hearing a word of what I was saying at all?”

You flush slightly at that. You weren’t getting off per se, even though some the sounds were kind of hot you’ll admit, especially if/when whatever he was saying got a little more hot and/or heavy. 

Okay maybe a part of you was a little bothered but it wasn’t, like, boner-worthy.  
You maintain composure, making your reply as deadpan as you can manage. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

He makes a weird sound at that. It’s kind of like a chirp. 

“Dude, that is the cutest shit oh my god.” 

“Shut up! I’ll have you know that troll vocalizations often carry significant meaning and are incredibly important to the way we communicate! Maybe if your inferior pink monkey carcass could actually produce sub-lingual vocalizations you’d understand that and the fact that they’re not just cute!”

As he rants, there’s a faint, pulsing buzz that intermingles with his speech, and it’s a sound you’re all too familiar with. It appears as though he’s a little irritated, but not quite angry enough to warrant any sustained growling. A saxophone worthy sound, you think.

“Okay, yeah I get it but also I hope you know I have actually been listening to all those ‘sub-lingual vocalizations’ you make-- which are cool as hell, by the way-- and to be honest I think I know a lot about the significance of some of them by now just from listening to you.” 

You turn him around and pull him closer, assuming the original position with him between your knees, except this time, your chin is on the junction between his neck and shoulder, and you speak directly into his ear. There’s a particular sound you really want him to make again. 

“Especially the sexy sounds. I listen especially hard to those.” 

He inhales sharply, and a short, rattling whirr starts up again. 

“See, that’s a sexy one. Hot damn Karbro, have some decency.” You throw in an exaggerated southern twang for good measure, “Take a lady out to dinner before you start making sex noises at her, goddamn! Didn’t CrabDad ever teach you any manners? Goodness gracious. ” 

“Will you shut up! That was irritation-- and not the ‘sexy’ kind!” 

He’s growling lowly now. Bingo. The rattling whirr may not have been the exact sexy sound you were going for, but this one most definitely is. Probably because you’ve been ghosting your breath over his neck, riling him up, and thumbing at the base of one horn all at the same time, which you’ve learned gives him all kinds of hate-mance vibes. You still don’t entirely understand how that works, but he gets really bitey this way. You shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do.

Still at his ear, you whisper,  
“I dunno KitKat,” his growl intensifies at this, “Sound’s pretty sexy to me.”  
“Fuck off.”  
“Mmmm, how about no?”  
“You fucking--” 

He tackles you. He turns around and honest-to-god tackles you, pushing you deeper into the uncomfortable pile of assorted Karkat related paraphernalia. You wince as another three (3) DVD cases (or maybe they’re books?) dig into your spine, but it doesn’t bother you for long. The troll now pinning you to the pile consumes your attention. Your wrists are trapped by his grip, but you know you could easily throw him if you wanted. 

You don’t. 

“See bro, how could you possibly construe this as unsexy when you are literally pinning me to the floor right now? This definitely qualifies as some sexy shit if you ask m--” 

You only get a glimpse of the trollish mixture of faint arousal and irritation flashing across his face before he crashes into you, hot and heavy and full of tongue and teeth and he’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted and the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and this is definitely the best turn of events. You don’t bother finishing whatever it is you were saying-- you don’t even remember what it was, you’re so consumed by his everything. 

His rumbling vocalizations are echoing through your entire body at every point of contact and you can’t help but think that nothing has ever felt as good as a lap full of rumbling troll.

He lets go of one of your wrists to grab at your hair, which definitely does not rip a strangled groan out of you. You refuse to acknowledge that that may have happened. Instead, you return the favour with your freed hand, grabbing one of his horns. The sound that escapes him is worth acknowledging to the fullest. 

He groans, not unlike a human might, but accompanying it is this gorgeous sub-vocal hum that is definitely boner-worthy, good god. This troll is going to be the death of you. 

You chuckle, remembering that same sentiment coming from one of his romance characters. How ironic. 

He moves away from your face, mouthing at your jaw before coming to hover over your neck. 

“What are you laughing at, nookstain?” He rumbles, nipping at your neck and trailing his hands down your body as soon as he’s done, making it very difficult to muster a coherent answer. You attempt. 

“I, uh,” you swallow, “You’re basically like, troll Romeo. Trolleo. What’s his name, like, from your book. I’m fucking... swoo--oh--ning, ah, shit, Karkat--” 

He trills happily, proud to have derailed whatever you were saying with a particularly hard bite, accompanied perfectly by the smooth undulation of his body over yours --applying pressure in all the right places-- and his claws raking delicately up your side. He dotes over what is undoubtedly a developing bruise on your neck with warm, gentle kisses. You notice his growling has lessened considerably, replaced by a deep, rumbling purr, similar to but more intense than the one he made while reading. It makes you a little dizzy with arousal. It’s officially your favourite sound. You let go of his horn, tightening your grip on his hair as you tilt your chin backwards, exposing more of your neck to him.

“God, Karkat you’re like a fucking symphony” 

You didn’t exactly intend to say that out loud. That seems to be a running theme. 

He pauses, rumbling contentedly into the junction of your neck and shoulder “The fuck is a sim-pony?” 

You sit up a little, bring your hands up to his face, pulling his up to yours. You give him a long, lingering kiss as you drag your hands along his sides, applying pressure to his grubscars and he makes all these intricate clicking sounds underscored by the bassy hum that has been nigh continuous throughout this encounter, and you just about shudder. 

“All those sounds, babe. That is a symphony. All those sexy alien noises coming together to make the sickest beats that ever did drop. The illest cacophony of rad cat and cricket noises. It’s you Karkat. You are the orchestra.” 

“Dave, I have no idea whether to be flattered or appalled by all the bullshit that you keep continuously spewing. It keeps coming. Does it ever stop? The world will never know.”

“It’s what you signed up for babe, take it or leave it.”

He pouts, trying to look irritated, but you can see the small crinkle of amusement in his eyes, the way his lips are struggling to stay downturned. It’s unbearably adorable. 

“Strider, shut up”  
“Make me.” 

He makes you.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaa this is my first work on ao3 ever hope you like it owo. constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated!


End file.
